


Jacob, Descending a Staircase

by giddyup



Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Pizza Place, Angst and Humor, Drug Use, Humor, I don't know who 'Joonyoung' is - go away, I will always despise this tagging system, M/M, Pizza
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-01-07 07:48:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18406283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giddyup/pseuds/giddyup
Summary: Kevin gets lumped with the stoners at his university. One night, they order pizza.





	1. 저는 누구입니까?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Great news everyone I'm going to therapy.  
> Rated teen for now.

Kevin is a grade A student.

He's a grade A student, with no absences, and is set to pass his course with flying colours. Extra credit and all.

Kevin is a grade A student - and the warm, heady scent of weed wafting through his dorm is  _not his fault_.

It’s like this, you see. One day he was minding his own business, making his way through his coursework. The next day, his uni had decided to implement a foreign student exchange program. A few of the travelling students were South Korean.

And since  _obviously_  no-one else in his imposing university, or the whole of Vancouver Island, had a grasp of Korean, he got lumped with them.

Now imagine the situation. Imagine you had moved to the other side of the world to learn. You had no scrutiny, no norms or expectations holding you back. No-one knew who you were. What would you do?

Kevin knows what he would do: he’d become the singer he’s always wanted to be. He’d explore, he’d travel. He’d fall in love, with the world and someone else.

These guys, though?

They figured out how to buy weed from the local campus dealer.

Kevin despises them.

“Keb?” a voice from the other room calls.

Kevin is trapping himself in his kitchenette. So if the smell  _is_  permeating the whole building like he imagines it is, when the police fight their way through the fog, he can prove his innocence.

“Keb!”

He draws his face from his hands, where he’s been resting on the counter. His nose wrinkles. He can feel a headache coming on.

He forces himself to the kitchen door and opens it.

The dorm room is not a pretty sight.

All three of them are lying on the bottom bunk, lolling their heads on each other’s shoulders.

The middle one, the soberest, beams at him. Sunwoo, he thinks his name is.

Kevin scowls.

Sunwoo ignores him, twiddling a blunt in his hand. It looks like a decomposing, decapitated finger.

“Hey Keb,” Sunwoo continues. The guy to his right, Haknyeon, cuddles into his side. Sunwoo pushes him back, “I ordered pizza. It should be here soon.”

Exasperation seeps out of Kevin's pores. He hopes it shows on his face. The room reeks of sweat and dust.

“And you want me to get the door?”

Sunwoo smiles again. “Yeah! As you can see, I’m busy.” He passes the blunt to the man on his left, Juyeon, who grabs and inhales like it's an oxygen tank. Kevin is on the verge of pulling his phone out and phoning the Dean.

The door rings before he can.

“Thank  _youuu!_ ” a voice calls at his back.

Kevin is, for the first time, grateful for the hallway and the main dorm being separated.

He gently closes the door, the hallway giving relief to his humid skin. His shirt is sticking to his back. One of these days he’s going to report them to student guidance, his reputation be damned.

The delivery boy rings the doorbell again. Kevin twists the door knob.

“Hey, your pizza -“

“Sorry, I -“

The first thing Kevin notices is that he’s cute.

The second thing he notices is that he's keeling over.

Kevin yanks the pizza box out of his hand and starts slapping lumps out of his back. He remembers this from a mandatory first aid class he did. Or should he be doing the Heimlich manoeuvre instead?

“I’m _so_ sorry,  _oh_  my God.”

Please don't let him have a death on his hands, he thinks. That won't look good on a resume.

The pizza boy slowly recovers, pushing Kevin’s hands away.

“Do you want me to get you some water? I -“

“No, no, it’s fine…” the delivery boy coughs once more, straightening himself up. “It’s fine, I have water in the van.” He wipes his eyes with the back of his hands, then looks him in the eyes.

“That shit smells  _strong_ , dude.”

Kevin’s face falls.

“It’s not me, I swear, I was just asked to answer the door, honestly, I –“

The delivery boy laughs through his sore throat, eyes lighting up. Kevin’s going to buy all the pizzas in the world, if it means he can see that again.

“You’re fine. I get it.”

He’s so casual about it. Kevin doesn’t want him to leave.

“Do I… do I pay now?” Kevin reaches into his back pocket.

He gets a bemused look in return.

“No, it’s been paid for.”

Kevin’s mouth forms a small  _O_.

“Your pizza’s there.”.

The delivery boy points to where the box has landed in the hallway, upside down. “See you.”

“S-see you.”

Kevin watches him walk down the hallway and descend the stairs. Watches until the remains of the red cap and blonde hair have faded from his horizon.

He closes the front door. Picks up the crumbled pizza box.

Was he wearing a name tag?

Kevin can’t remember.

He should’ve asked for his name.

-

The next morning, Kevin buries his face in the garbage can, coughing up dust. He rummages until his hand touches it, underneath the remains of microwave hamburger packets. He plucks it out with a triumphant flick of his wrist. Proud of himself, he turns around to the kitchen doorway.

He’s greeted with Sunwoo’s silhouette, cheeks puffed out with laughter.

The cardboard sags in Kevin’s hand.

“Uh.”

Sunwoo lets out the first stream of laughter, like a steam engine revving up, shoulders shaking in the doorway.

Kevin would like the ground to swallow him up now. That would be nice.

“What are you doing, bro?” Sunwoo chokes out, in between snorts.

“Um… what was… what was…” Kevin starts.

Sunwoo can’t see him anymore, doubling over and cradling his stomach.

“The, the name of the pizza…? Do you remember...?”

The guy at the doorway draws himself up, his smile turning into a full shit-eating grin.

“You mean the pizza place? It says on the box, Keb.”

Sunwoo goes back to the dorm room, closing the door behind him. The laughter erupts like sun rays, as if he’s still in the room.

Kevin holds up the box, dripping in grease, dying with the effort of remaining upright. Angles it, so the sunlight from the window streams on to it.

There it is, in old style Italian calligraphy.

_J &B Pizzeria_

It stinks.

He throws it back in the trash and scrubs his hands.

-

He should be focusing on his work. His 2000-word essay, required by next Friday, wasn’t going to write itself.

His eyes glaze over, looking at the library computer screen. He glances out of the window, then to the computer. Then back to the window.

It was May. Rain hits the window, in small taps. Clouds were beginning to brighten over the horizon.

Children’s Festival would be soon. Seoul is heating up.

His eyes flit back to his screen. He closes out of a biography on Marcel Duchamp, then opens a new tab. It takes him to the campus home page. He ignores it and clicks on a search engine.

Google flashes on the screen, in all its neon wonder. Kevin ponders the way his hands splay over the keyboard, watching his fingers wander.

He presses the first key.

_J…_

_Ampersand…_

_B…_

He can’t bring his face away from the keyboard. As if seeing the letters on screen makes them tangible. He presses the A with a dash of his index finger, and winces as he hits Enter.

The first result is about a Pizzeria in France.

The second is an online ordering service.

He clicks the second one.

He scrolls lightning fast through the list of foods, straight to the bottom, hunting for an address.

Much to his surprise, he finds one.

Kevin’s mouth gapes.

It was close.

He wouldn’t need to wade through the English Bay to get there.

He closes the tab and returns to skimming PDFs on Dadaist theory. Takes a few notes in his notepad.

But he’s learned something new now. Something real. Something to keep in his mental inventory.

For later.

-

It’s Saturday.

Again.

Sunwoo bows, passing a blunt with both hands to Juyeon. Juyeon gives a slight inclination with his shoulders and takes it.

“I’m ordering pizza.”

Everyone turns around and smiles at him

“I said –“

“We heard you!” Haknyeon chimes, eyes flickering between Sunwoo’s face and Juyeons’ hands.

“Make it a pepperoni with a garlic dip.” Sunwoo says, closing his eyes slightly.

They haven’t even lit the thing.

Kevin wonders if he should mention it.

He grabs his phone from his back pocket. Forehead wrinkling, he opens the delivery app instead.

He looks at the pizza menu. Puts in the request. His thumb hovers over the ‘Order’ button, ready to go.

He lingers over the address.

It is so, _so_ close.

Walking distance.

He types in his card details and sends.

“I want to listen to music.” Juyeon says, sinking against the headboard.

Sunwoo mumbles  _cool_  and shuffles towards his Bluetooth speaker.

They still haven’t lit it.

Maybe Kevin could light one of his candles. Try and waft out the smell.

Oh  _wow_.

That’s the best idea he’s had in weeks.

Kevin goes to the kitchen, to the cupboard he keeps his zakka in. Pulls out a random candle and his gas stove lighter. There’s burn marks on the metal tip, where they haven’t been before.

The thought escapes him as he draws a flame and brings it to the wax tip, artificial vanilla clouding his vision. In the other room, boom bap beats vibrate against the wall. It sounds crisp. Funny, Kevin thinks. The technology improves, but the music never does.

His ears tune out at the sound of rapping. He’s conscious of the door. As if it’s watching him, despite his back being turned to it.

When the _brrring_ sounds out from the hallways’ concave, he’s not surprised.

He puts the candle down and walks through the main room; Sunwoo’s jaw flying over an instrumental.

When he closes the door behind him, separate from them, he realises what he's doing. What if it’s not him? What if he opens the door and it’s someone else? They’d obviously have rotating staff and irregular shift patterns, of course, because it’s a uni pizzeria, and it hasn’t even been ordered from the same card, and –

Kevin yanks the door open.

It’s him.

“Hey, a single pepperoni –“

“Hey.”

The pizza boy looks up from the receipt and smiles.

Kevin’s feet stick to the ground.

Behind the closed door, the speaker switches to a song he knows.  _Shame_  by Wu-Tang Clan.

Kevin freezes.

Sunwoo starts rapping along.

Is he going to –

Please don’t.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Oh shit.

He says it.

He said the word.

Kevin's eyes widen.

“Blasians?” the pizza boy asks, raising his eyebrows.

Kevin shakes his head in slow motion.

“Uh… no, just Asians.”

The pizza boy snorts.

“Well, a pepperoni pizza with a garlic dip. Enjoy.”

The pizza boy thrusts a box into his hands.

“Uh. Thanks”

Kevin’s eyes wander to his faded red pinstripe shirt. How quaint. He has a name-tag on, in the same calligraphy of their boxes.

_Jacob_

The delivery boy turns and walks away. Kevin closes the door, before he sees him walking down the stairs.

_Hut one hut two hut three – HUT!_

He stands there, silent, in the enclosed corridor. Holds the cooling pizza box in his hands.

Jacob.

He rolls it around his mind, then in his mouth. Whispers it, to see how it feels on his tongue.

He’s going to kill his roommates.

Why can’t they listen to Carly Rae Jepsen like normal people?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing real person fiction is a drag. Same for making any type of fan art, and for idolizing anyone. You will get to a point where you think you hate them.
> 
> I spent hours at the library reading travel guides for Canada, not quite believing that Kevin threw it all away for a chance at fame.
> 
> And then I realized that I don't hate him - I just wish I had his spirit.


	2. 나는 도시 발견는다

This isn’t it.

Surely this isn’t it.

Kevin looks at the building in front of him. Then back to Google Maps. Then back to the address, that he so painstakingly copied by hand.

Nope. His GPS wasn’t lying to him.

This is the place.

Saturday night, a beaten up, wooden house, etched against a dusk sky.

He’d gotten his lowest marks for the semester on his essay, _André Breton and the Influence of the Dadaists on Art & Psychology_. His lowest still qualified as a pass, and it hadn’t brought his grades down significantly.

It was freeing, almost, to look at his barely decreasing online grade and not care.

The door was a rustic wooden door. The entire building was bleak, bleak cedar, only accented by a bright red doorknob, and the streams of light coming from the two walls opposite.

Kevin was too scared to peak around the other side and look in them.

He’s about to turn around and forget it all, until he hears a hiss of oil coming through the gaps in the door.

He twists the doorknob, expecting something stubborn.

The door gives way at his barest touch, swinging the restaurant into full view.

Restaurant? Diner? He can’t find the word. He looks down at the black and white checkered floor, terrified to push forward. The room is sparse. There’s a few plain tables and chairs sitting around, with accented reds and greens. There’s a gumball machine next to the counter, half full.

It’s silent, apart from the soft sizzle of… something from the back room. It’s a white, modern door, that connects the counter space to the back room

Kevin takes a step back, reaches for the doorknob to close the door.

The back-room door swings open before he can.

“Sorry, I was just making some fries, and – oh, hi there.”

Kevin’s eyes move from the doorknob, and he looks to the till area instead.

It’s him.

Of course it's him.

Kevin feels like a burglar.

They hold eye contact for a few seconds.

The guy – _Jacob_ , he remembers – looks sheepish.

“You can come in, if you want?”

Kevin nods, and steps on the laminate flooring. It doesn’t feel as cold and sterile as it looks.

Before he knows it, he’s standing at the other side of the counter, still looking at him.

Did he remember his wallet?

“Hey, do you want something?”

 _Your dick_ , Kevin stops himself from blurting out.

“Uh… do you do half pizzas?”

He finally smiles back at him.

“Yeah, I can make one for you. What do you want on it?”

Kevin pats his back pocket. His wallet is there. Lord blesseth.

“Just cheese and tomato?”

“Sure.”

The pizza boy, who he guesses is also a pizza maker, wanders into the back room.

He gets a glimpse of a single fryer and the back of his red cap before the door closes.

Kevin stands, unsure of what to do.

His eyes wander.

The walls are bare, save for a few postcards stuck on a wall next to a table. Kevin wonders if he’s allowed to sit down somewhere.

He takes a side-step, and then stays immobile. 

There’s a glossy poster stuck above the counter, the place where the server can come and leave. It’s a reprint. _Time Transfixed_.

Kevin gazes for a while. He’s seen the original in Chicago. He’s seen a hundred reprints in library books. But he’s never seen it like this, the billows of steam dangling like glass balls.

He doesn’t notice the door next to it opening.

“Hey, it’ll just be 2 minutes…”

Kevin blinks away from it.

“Oh… yeah, cool.”

The other man’s eyes follow where his once were.

“Do you like it? I don’t know much about art, but I’ve always liked that for some reason.”

Words catch in his throat. He could tell him everything about it. The artist, the context, the history.

He doesn’t.

He nods his head at him instead.

Jacob smiles.

Kevin wishes he could capture that sparkle in his eyes forever.

“2 minutes!” he chirps. And he’s lost to the kitchen again.

Kevin’s dumbfounded.

He looks down. His hands are palm down on the marble granite top. He lifts them, leaving dampness behind.

His eyes wander, looking for a napkin dispenser. There’s one on the table, next to the postcard collage.

He wills the sweat to dry on its own.

Kevin’s ready for when the door opens a second time, the pizza boy wielding a box. A smaller one than usual.

“Here it is, sorry about the wait.”

He was waiting? Kevin doesn’t remember waiting.

“Thank you, how much?”

The server squints at a corner in the ceiling, then looks back, smiling.

“Seven dollars!”

Kevin grabs his wallet. Looks inside. He’s got more change than he thought he did.

He slams down a $10 note.

Jacob looks stunned.

“I… I couldn’t possibly –“

“Please.”

He must look as desperate as he feels. He gets the pizza box handed to him.

They look at each other.

It’s time to leave now. Kevin turns around. Makes his way to the door.

He turns around one last time, and notices he’s being watched.

"Thanks Jacob."

Jacob's face falls.

"Wait, how do you know my -"

Kevin runs out and slams the door before he hears the rest. The box is flaming hot, stabbing daggers through his hands.

It’s cold outside, now.

How long was he waiting for?

When he makes his way home, everyone has passed out. He sits in the kitchen and makes his way through the pizza, a bite at a time. He keeps a small glass of water to his right hand side. He rolls each piece of cooling dough in his mouth, and swallows.

It’s the best pizza he’s ever tasted.

-

He has another essay due. He’s serious about this one. He needs the grade. The Post-Modernists.

He has _The Shock of the New_ and several tabs open on his run-down Mac, his notebook at the ready.

It’s a warm day outside. Sunny. Sunwoo and Juyeon are out. Haknyeon is still sleeping in the top bunk, dazed. Maybe the other two were finally attending their classes. Who knows.

Kevin takes down notes. Then more notes. Then another note, sifting through biographies, articles and a million names that meant nothing.

The bed rustles. And then stops.

Kevin’s hand stills, pen hovering above paper. He left his earphones in the kitchen. If he gets up to get them now, he’ll know he wants to block him out. God.

He turns his attention to the book. Jots down more notes. Slow, careful print. Handwriting that would make the best court stenographer weep. Every complex French name accented with precision.

“Kevin?”

If Kevin ignores him as hard as he can, maybe he’ll think he’s absorbed in his work. In his flow. He bores holes into the book, until the words blur and bend to nothingness. He’s almost there, he’s-

“Kev?”

He keeps flicking his pen on and off, stray ink residual blotting the paper underneath. The voice tries again, softer this time.

“Kevin.”

He gives the pen one final _click_.

“Yes?” he grits through his teeth.

Silence.

These guys were tiresome. He was going to report them soon. He will. He swears, he swears, he swears.

“…what should I do with my life?”

The pen falls out of Kevin’s grip with a dull thud.

He cranes his neck to the top bunk.

Haknyeon’s face is peeping out from under the blankets, bloodshot and curious.

Kevin readjusts his glasses, and then realises he’s not wearing them today.

He put contacts in today.

“I…”

Haknyeon’s eyes widen.

“I don’t know.” Kevin admits.

He snaps his face to the dorm window above his laptop, before he can see his reaction,

The sky is yellow ochre, the red rising sun etching its way across the plane. The mountains look but an arms’ stretch away.

The sun is so bright.

Kevin remembers vaguely what Georgia O’Keeffe said, holed up in her lonely abode in New Mexico.

_God told me if I painted that mountain enough, I could have it._

Blinking away from the window, he remembers why he was told to never stare into the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Great news everyone I have therapy tomorrow.  
> I'd like to skip to the part in the future where I stop living vicariously through kpop idols, though.


	3. 잎의 아래에 혈액

 “Have you started smoking?”

Kevin wishes he was braver. Brave enough to do something about that smug look Sunwoo carries with him. Call him all the names under the sun, all the names that run through his head daily. Scream in his face.

There’s always something holding him back.

“No,” and he hopes the way he says it carries the weight of his words unsaid.

“Well…” Sunwoo starts, taking his eyes off him, letting himself sink into his bunk bed, “what’s with all the pizza? Have you got the munchies?”

Kevin bolts upright in his desk chair. “No? What pizza? I- I-“

Sunwoo laughs. “The garbage is just pizza boxes, and me and the boys haven’t smoked in ages.”

Kevin doubts that last point. He’s right about the first.

He’s been back to the pizzeria 5 times in 2 weeks. He’s developed a new reward system for getting his grades up. For every 1000 words and 1 hour of study he does, he buys himself a half margherita. Orders it online and goes to collect it. A fresh, delicious pizza. His favourite food.

(He’s talking out his ass. He couldn’t give a flying fuck about the pizzas – tasty as they were. It’s something else drawing him back.)

He’d apologised for the awkwardness on his second visit, explaining how he knew his name. (“Oh, I always forget I have a name-tag on my uniform…” A smile. A dagger twisting in Kevin’s heart.) They brushed past the awkwardness when Jacob accidentally said his name in turn. (“The online ordering system told me…” Another wound in Kevin’s chest.)

Every time since, it’s been pleasant but stilted. Smiles. Small talk. Averted eyes. Awkward greetings and exchanges, rejecting each other’s familiarity. Kevin kept waiting for the ice to break. A change in the weather.

It never came.

He left the diner each time empty and cold, despite the warming dusk and the pizza boxes searing through his hands.

When Kevin glares at Sunwoo in response, his smirk resurfaces ten-fold.

Kevin wants to cry and scream. Or kick him out his dorm.

He starts furiously hammering his keyboard instead.

_Just 951 more words, just 951 more…_

“Hey Kev?”

“What?”

“Me, Ju, and Hak are smoking tonight. We’re inviting someone round. Do you wanna join?”

His fingers slow, information sinking out of his head. He doesn’t have any essays for a while. He’s just stockpiling information at this point. 1000 words. The lamest excuse for a pizza ever conceived.

“…sure,” Kevin chokes out, “…but I still wanna work on essays… and… I’m not smoking anything…”

Sunwoo makes a small sound, and when Kevin turns to look, he gives him a jovial look in turn. Not his usual braggadocio. He feels uneasy,

Kevin’s lips tighten.

“Do you like brownies?” Sunwoo asks.

Like? Kevin loves brownies.

He nods.

-

As Juyeon trails him up each ungodly flight of stairs, Jacob feels a sense of déjà-vu wash over him. He mindlessly followed him here, chattering away, and he hadn’t paid attention to the name of the complex they were heading to.

It was silent now, bar the panting and the rhythmic slap of shoe on concrete.

He feels underdressed in his hoodie and sweatpants. His lounging and - as of lately - smoking outfit. He feels like he should be wearing a uniform.

When Juyeon opens a doorway and steps into a hallway, it hits him.

The crimson, velveteen carpet. The bare white walls.

“Number 49,” Juyeon says, starting to pace up the corridor.

“Forty nine?” Jacob parrots in disbelief.

Jacob sticks to the ground, body stubborn. It’s like the frame of the doorway is crashing towards him, not letting him take another step.

Juyeon turns to look at him, gaze bewildered.

“You live in forty nine?” Jacob repeats.

Juyeon raises his eyebrows. “Yes?”

“Do you have roommates?”

“Yeah, the ones I told you about, Hak and Sunwoo…there’s another guy, but he’ll probably just hide in the kitchen.”

Jacob wants to ask about the other guy.

His words catch in his throat.

He walks to number 49 with Juyeon instead, heart ready to drop out of his ass. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been procrastinating on this hard. I have a good reason, I swear. On the bright side, I finally have a good idea of where this story is heading, and I have the next few chapters drafted out.
> 
> Congratulations to The Boyzzszsz on their first win. They deserved it.


	4. 우유와 꿀

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. [+287, -1,481] 소년보지  
> 2\. [+5, -253] 헐...이것은좋안다

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got high for the second time in my life for writing research. Don't ever say I'm not thorough.

Sunwoo and Haknyeon were shuffling around him, setting things up. ‘Things’ being a Bluetooth speaker and brownies. Kevin had earphones in, ignoring it all. He could pretend to be social when the guest arrived. For now, he was studying.

He shuffles through websites on Pop Art, taking a few notes and absorbing none of them.

The stench of Haknyeon’s brownie experiment fills the air, breezing from the kitchenette to his desk. It smells slightly off, but it wasn’t unpleasant. A welcome change from what the dorm usually stunk of.

What is was _about_ to stink of, Kevin reminds himself bitterly.

He opens a new tab. On instinct, he types the first few letters of the address and hits enter. Just to make a hypothetical order in his head. Just for fun, a bit of window shopping. A habit he’d stop soon.

When his Mac finally loads the site, the menu is greyed out.

_Not accepting orders, sorry!_

Kevin’s lip furls.

That’s odd.

It’s 7PM on a Friday. Prime business hours.

It’s never been shut at this time.

A phone buzzes from a distance.

“It’s Juyeon!” Sunwoo hollers over the music, “They’re here.”

Kevin sighs and pauses the new Toro y Moi album, yanking his earphones out. He might hate stoners, but he’ll never be rude to a guest. Even if they were here to smoke his dorm out. Even if they were unlocking his door right now.

He swivels around in his chair just in time to see someone crouched over, taking shoes off in the doorway. Etiquette and manners while doing drugs in a strangers' house. Charming.

The person stands upright and shuffles into the room, barefoot.

They look each other in the eyes.

They stop moving.

Kevin looks, blinks, and then shakes his head.

Sunwoo lets out a belly laugh, watching them from the kitchen door.

“Uh…” Juyeon says, “…do you know each other?”

“Yeah.”

“Kind of.”

Kevin tries to figure out who said what. The other man is frozen in place, staring at him.

“How?” Haknyeon adds, fascinated. He’s wandered from the kitchen to the main room to see the spectacle, apron firmly in place.

“Uh.”

“Um.”

“…pizza? I guess.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, pizza.”

“Pizza.”

“Pizza.”

They blink at each other. Jacob breaks first, deciding to gaze at the carpet. Kevin turns to Haknyeon. Haknyeon tries to smile.

Kevin looks at his hands.

“I…” Kevin sinks at the sound of the other man’s voice, resubmerging, “I can leave if you want.”

Kevin’s head snaps back up to the sight of a dismayed Jacob.

“N-no, it’s fine, I swear, I just wasn’t expecting you.” Jacob gives a faint tug of his lips, the first barely-there smile since he arrived. Kevin’s stomach flips.

“I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on though, and uh…” Kevin yanks the charger out of his laptop and speed walks to the kitchen, not looking anyone in the eye.

He dumps his laptop on the kitchen counter.

He looks at the screen.

The abyss of the pizza menu stares back unto him.

He let’s his face sink into his hands. Considers letting out a muffled scream.

He doesn’t.

Someone tip-toes into the kitchen.

If Kevin stands like an imbecile with his face buried in his hands, maybe they’ll go away.

No such luck.

Something taps at his shoulder. “Kevin?”

He drops his hands and straightens his back. A gentle Haknyeon appears in his line of vision.

It’s the first time Haknyeon’s talked to him, since his failed life advice sermon. Guilt crashes through Kevin in waves. There’s something sympathetic, something knowing in his eyes.

“I left you a brownie.” Haknyeon nods towards his laptop, a chocolate square next to it. The laptop sinks into stand-by mode. Kevin is so, so lost.

His eyes follow the brownie, then back to Haknyeon. Haknyeon's smile reaches his eyes. Kevin feels his lips twitch in response. He wonders, for a second, how high he must be.

“It’s delicious.” Haknyeon reassures. He walks out of the kitchen, closing the door behind him. It was still light outside. It’s nearing half seven. Summer was closing in, its warm embrace imminent. Kevin picks up the brownie and nibbles a bit as he boots up his laptop. He feels like he’s wading through the orange sunlight as he types in his password.

The brownie tastes off. A medicinal aftertaste. But Kevin is _hungry_ , and pizza is clearly off the menu tonight.

Pizza.

Kevin’s heart flutters against his will. He swallows the rest of the brownie in one go.

He closes the ordering tab and opens Youtube. Everything feels different, as he clicks on the first thumbnail that appeals to him. He can taste the colours through the screen. It’s on mute, but he can imagine the sounds. The laughing in the other room hits the walls in crashes. It becomes tangible, contagious.

Kevin starts laughing with them.

Kevin abandons his laptop, floating towards the door. His palm dives for the knob. Everything feels amiss. It was like everything around him had shifted by the barest millimetre, leaving his grasp and footing unsure.

The knob felt warm and soft under his touch. He lets his fingers melt into it, snorting at the sensation. He twists it open. Another world swings into view.

It’s bright. The lights are dimmed, but it’s bright. The whites from the desks and the walls burned into his corneas; the laughter and chatter vivid. Wherever he focused became neon, bursting with new ideas; forgotten as quickly as they came.

Someone laughs, louder than the fuzzy music coming from the speaker.

Kevin’s head swivels towards its direction. He feels everything in his body, from the lightness of his head to the weight of his bare soles.

“Kevin!” Sunwoo laughs, and Kevin laughs back, “Kevin, did you like the brownie?”

Kevin blinks and pushes his weight onto the side of the doorframe, wobbling.

“Yeah, I did.”

He notices Haknyeon next to Sunwoo, and turns to him. He seems amused.

“Sit there.” And he points, with a half-smoked blunt in his hand, to Kevin’s bed.

He turns his head to see an empty nook, created by the shape of someone’s legs. His eyes follow upwards.

Kevin's face twitches. He forgot he was here.

“Hey, sit down, I don’t bite…” Jacob says, a hint of something warm playing at his lips.

Kevin laughs as if he’s said something funny. He pushes his way through the fog and the music, perching himself on the edge of his single bed. Someone, somewhere, chuckles.

Kevin’s bewildered. Content.

“C’mon, make yourself comfy.”, Jacob says, making a vague patting motion next to him.

There’s a weight in Kevin’s body that didn’t exist when he was standing. His centre of gravity shifts towards his hips.

He wants to sleep. He wants to lie down. Every nerve in his body screams at him, telling him to nestle with the heat lying in the bed. In _his_ bed.

So, he does. His body sinks horizontally, shoulders first, curling up tight to avoid falling. The body behind him clutches at his waist and pulls him closer. Kevin can make out the features of a face – a nose, a chin – embedding into the back of his neck.

The arm around his waist loosens its grip, fingers floating over Kevin’s abdomen. Kevin’s eyes droop.

“Is this your first time?” Jacob murmurs into Kevin’s neck, words undulating all over his body. His blood is too occupied with dancing in his veins to head southwards and pitch a tent, thank God.

Kevin goes to release a breath, and finds he wasn’t holding one to begin with.

“First time what?”

Jacob’s nose wrinkles against him. He sounds perplexed. “First time getting high.”

Kevin’s eyelids stop struggling against their weight. The colour of the room bursts into view.

“I’m high?”

Everyone in the room gwaffs at that. Even Juyeon peaks his head out of the top bunk to look in disbelief.

Kevin sags against Jacob’s back, the other man pulling him in even tighter. Every part of his body touching him felt ablaze. It’s disorienting. It stinks like sweatpants stained with pizza grease.

Kevin wants to feel like this forever.

“You’re so innocent…” Jacob starts. He forgets to finish.

“…you never seemed like the type to – heh,” Kevin trails off in a half laugh.

“Don’t do it often… job gets stressful sometimes… need to unwind…”

_I can think of better ways to unwind._

The hand rubbing up and down his stomach stills, breath held against his neck. Did he say that out loud?

“I mean like… painting?”

“Painting?” Jacob asks, incredulous.

“Yeah… painting… colours… pretty…”

The floor in front of him stretches into an open plane, everything colliding. All the colours, sounds, tastes - the weight of the body behind him - drips together, slow and steady. He feels like he’s living in a Tom Wesselman nude.

“Maybe you could teach me how to paint sometime.”

“Mmm.”

Jacob’s breath falls steady on his neck, like water droplets breaking the sky.

The last thing Kevin remembers is Sunwoo pushing Haknyeon away, and a quick press of _something_ to his nape.

-

His subconscious gives him snatches of dreams. It yanks them from him before they become coherent. His whole body unravelling like a spool, under the weight of its own existence.

Vignettes in unformed flashes. Blonde hair. Warmth. Bodies cooped up. Words that don’t form sentences, words that don’t exist, but express everything he knows.

Skeletal outlines turning into finished sketches.

Telling Jacob that he -

His eyes drag open.

He’s still wearing his clothes. Gross.

He flips on his back and falls on nothing, just the sunken mattress where another body once lay. The smell of something that isn’t him.

Juyeon walks up to his bed and blinks down at him. “You alright?”

Kevin doesn’t know.

“Uh…” Kevin begins. Juyeon remains stoic. “How do you know Jacob?”

“Fitness classes,” Juyeon offers, nonchalant, “how do you know him? Honest answer.”

“I like his pizza.”

Juyeon looks confused.

“Is that what he calls it?”

Kevin winces.

It's daylight. Summer rolls through the window in spasms, sweat sticking to his forehead. He really needs a shower.

“Oh yeah, by the way; he left his number.” Juyeon thumbs towards the notepad on Kevin’s desk, and turns away.

He couldn't wait for autumn to come, for everything that's bloomed to wither away and die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel bad for writing Kevin like a dumbass. Real Kevin would know damn well what was in the brownie and ask for seconds. Kevin, if you read this (please don't), I'm sorry.
> 
> I drew a floor plan of what the dorm looks like in MS Paint. but I forgot to save it because my IQ is in the minuses. Just use your imagination xD


	5. 금갈색

Adding the number was easy. Sending the first text was hard.

Everything after that? It was easy.

Too easy.

They’d been texting for a week now. Kevin couldn’t tell you what they talked about, but they were talking. Jacob finally knows what he’s majoring in. Kevin finally knows what Jacob’s majoring in. He finally got to tell him why he loves _Time Transfixed_ , and, by extension, why he loves the reprint he has in his diner-cum-apartment.

Jacob laughs at his jokes. Encourages him. For every 5 things Kevin tells him about himself, Jacob tells him 1.

He wasn’t turned off when he sent him an ironic-but-not-really-ironic hashtag. He laughed through text. He now sends him selfies with his own hashtags equipped.

Kevin’s heart could burst out of his chest.

Which brings us to the present moment.

It started with a text.

 

_Hey_ _😊_

_Remember when u said you’d teach me how to paint?_

lol???

_When we got high together?_

oh… yeah what abt it

_Well, could u teach me how to paint?_

_Only if you want to_ _😊_

Kevin couldn’t have sent the dancing girl emojis fast enough.

So here he is.

Sitting at a diner table with Jacob opposite him. Paper lain down. A bowl of fruit between them.

“Uh, Kev? This doesn’t look like an apple.”

Jacob blinks down at his own sheet in bewilderment.

Kevin’s stomach does a half-summersault before he stops it. He’s getting good at this suppression thing.

“Let me have a look.”

Jacob looks skeptical, before he holds his drawing up to him.

He’s right, it looks nothing like an apple.

“I knew it,” Jacob says, slamming his drawing down, “I don’t know why I tried, I-“

“No, no, no, I promise,” Kevin’s mind is on autopilot now, “it’s not great, but the Old City Hall clock wasn’t built in a day, right? Practise makes…”

Jacob gazes at his drawing in wonderment. Then he looks at Kevin.

“Drawing’s hard, Kevin.”

Kevin blinks.

“It’s _hard_ ,” Jacob repeats.

Kevin’s eyes flicker towards his own drawing. His apple is garbage too. But the banana he stuck in the fruit bowl? Drawn with precision and accuracy. Worthy of the Blum & Poe.

He looks back up at Jacob.

The silence of the empty room is audible.

Jacob grimaces. "Hey, what if we put some music on?" he says, "what do you like?"

Don't say Beyoncé.

"Beyoncé."

Fuck.

Jacob barely hesitates. “Beyoncé? I think I have some of her stuff downloaded… let me check.”

Kevin watches him bound to the diner-cum-apartment’s backroom. He refuses to think too hard about the way Jacob’s gripping his shirt, pulling the front over his shorts.

Soon he doesn’t have to think about it, because the sound of Beyoncé slurring SIX INCH HEEEEELS in her Southern drawl fills the room.

Jacob waddles back into the room, sweaty and flustered but no longer clutching at the hem of his shirt. It’s a Kacey Musgraves shirt from her latest tour.

Kevin cringes.

Jacob smiles through the pain.

“Sorry, I know the sound quality’s not the best, I usually just stick my phone in a tall glass and use that as a speaker, and I…”

Kevin resumes drawing. He starts singing along to shut him up.

“She got that Sake, her Yamazake straight from.. hey I just remembered you said you wanted to learn how to paint.”

He looks back up at Jacob. Jacob looks confused.

“I didn’t even bring my watercolours.”

Jacob smiles again, but a genuine one.

“It’s fine, I like this. I like being with you – I mean, uh, I like learning how to draw and -”

Kevin goes back to shading his banana, biting his tongue.

“Hey, do you uh… play any instruments?” Jacob asks, an awkward laugh tacked at the end.

Kevin keeps sketching. “Yeah, I play piano, and-“

“Wow, you must be really good at fingering, I mean, wh-,” Kevin looks at him from under his eyebrows. Jacob’s cheeks are magenta, “uh… I mean uh… I play guitar!”

“Cool,” Kevin says, turning back to his drawing.

 _Don’t Hurt Yourself_ comes up on shuffle. Oh, he loves this one. He starts half-whispering and rapping along, while immaculately shading in every line and indent in the peel. The most beautiful monochrome banana in the whole world.

“Hey, Kevin?”

Kevin looks up, irritated. Just as he was getting into it, as well.

“Yes?” Kevin says.

“Are you, uh –“

Kevin’s face falls. Surely not.

Surely he doesn’t have to ask.

“- gonna become an art teacher with your degree?”

Jacob gives Kevin the fattest grin he’s ever seen.

“Uh, I dunno. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

Kevin looks back at his banana. There’s something off about it. He squints at the fruit bowl, then back to his own replica on the paper. It sucks.

He starts working on the apple instead.

“I wish I was high right now,” Jacob says, bluntly.

“Me too,” Kevin replies. He hasn’t been high since last week, but boy did he need a brownie right now.

It falls silent again, bar the sound of Kevin beating the everloving shit out of his apple drawing with his HB pencil.

He digs the pencil in at the darkest part of the sketch.

The lead snaps.

Kevin looks up at Jacob, and smiles.

“Do you want me to get a sharpener?” Jacob asks.

Kevin laughs. “Nah, it’s fine. My drawing sucked anyway.”

They sit there for a bit, smiling. The ‘This is: Beyoncé’ Spotify playlist soars in the background, amplified through a tinny phone speaker. _Baby love me lights out._

Kevin can’t quite take his eyes off the man in front of him. Jacob doesn’t break, his smile unwavering.

Another Beyoncé song rips through the current one.

The song hasn’t changed though.

It’s Kevin’s ring tone.

Kevin sighs, breaking eye contact. He pats his pockets for his phone and pulls it out.

It’s Juyeon.

A number he’d added for civilities sake, but had never needed to use. Juyeon had never called him before.

He presses the answer button, doing his best to ignore the man opposite him.

“Hey, Kevin… I hope you’re not busy,” Juyeon mumbles down the receiver, over a current of white noise.

“I am, but what do you want?”

“Well…” Kevin hears a smash, too distant to be from his side of the phone, “…something’s up with Sunwoo and Hak… I don’t know… hurry, please.”

Kevin barely gets the _huh?_ out before he hears the dial tone.

He hangs up and looks at Jacob.

Jacob’s lips are pursed.

“There’s some… drama happening in the flat?” Kevin tries, “I really wish I could stay but,” Kevin blinks away from Jacob, gazing at the bowl of fruit, “but I think I have to go.”

Jacob’s voice sounds softer than usual. “Sure… I had a good time. Thanks, Kevin.”

“No problem,” Kevin says, looking back at him.

They share a small apologetic smile, before Kevin bundles up his art supplies and leaves.

It’s warm outside, the world on the cusp of sunset.

Kevin takes each step as slow as he can.

It’s when he’s padding up the staircase to his apartment, he remembers he forgot to ask about the polaroids at the diner table.

He thinks he hears shouting in the distance.


	6. 발신음

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I regularly updated this? Pepperidge Farm remembers.

Jacob has his dealers' number saved. He keeps it under a fake name. He has his own special picture, a picture of a sun. Because jokes like that just tickle Jacob's pickle.

He's been texting him more lately. It was always near the top of his contact list, underneath his relatives and 'Kevin'.

He's not familiar with drug dealer etiquette, but he's pretty sure this is breaking a rule of some sort.

Being messaged first.

 

_hey im coming over whats ur address_

Why?

_don't ask jst give me ur address_

 

Kevin had just left in haste. The diner felt empty around him, a chill creeping up his arms.

He gives his dealer his address.

His phone buzzes a second later.

 

fuk off

???

_thats the address for that pizza place_

That's where I live.

I swear.

_im gna go there if ur lying ill kill u_

_u think im joking_

 

He doesn't think he's joking.

Jacob puts his phone on silent, then turns it face down on the table. His hands are clammy. He hasn't moved from the diner table. He looks for something to fidget with.

All there is is pencils. His drawing, and Kevin's drawing.

He looks at his own.

It sucks.

He reaches over, and picks up Kevin's to inspect.

It's good. He remembers him saying that it sucked - was it modesty? He can't express why it's good, but it's good.

He turns the sheet over to the blank side, and slides in the adjacent seat.

It's still warm. There's a slight smell of Kevin's aftershave lingering in the booth.

He breathes it in. Breathes out.

His eyes fix on the poster by the counter.

It comes to him in small bursts, recollections of things Kevin told him about it. The original title being ongoing time stabbed by a dagger.

What an odd title. The painting looks so banal. A coal train, spearing through a stuffy old fireplace. He can't quite recall what drawn him to it in the first place.

He picks up a pencil. Starts trying to replicate it. Remembers the advice Kevin gave him.

He stays like that, transfixed in time, adding detail.

The only sound is the blunt pencil, scraping lines across the paper.

_Bang bang bang._

"Jacob."

Jacob bursts out of his skin, pencil clattering to the ground.

" _Jacob!_ "

"Coming, coming," Jacob shouts, pacing his way to the door.

Blood sears through his body as he swings the door open.

It's Sunwoo. Eyes blazing against the dusk of night.

"What do you -" Talking is futile, Sunwoo's already barged his way in.

Jacob closes the door. He turns to see Sunwoo inspecting his dining table.

"You like art?" Sunwoo scoffs over his Magritte replica.

Sunwoo's phone starts ringing. He opens it, glancing at the name before switching it off.

Jacob thinks better of asking. He shuffles his way to the table, hesitant. "Kinda? Not really, I -"

Sunwoo is staring right through him.

"Was Kevin here?"

Jacob looks down at his feet. "Maybe."

"So he was here, then?" Sunwoo slides into the booth, face sinking into Jacob's drawing.

"Hey don't smudge that," Jacob whines. "Kevin hasn't taught me how to stop smudging, yet."

Sunwoo lifts his head up, looking at Jacob.

"Are you and Kevin..." he lets it hang in the air.

Jacob blinks. Why is he having this conversation with his dealer, again?

"Are we dating? No, I don't think so."

"I didn't mean dating, I meant..." Sunwoo starts looking at the ceiling, gesticulating in the air.

"Are we...? Well, I am. I don't know about Kevin."

Sunwoo looks at him.

"You don't know if Kevin's gay?" Sunwoo asks, "of course he's fucking gay, Jacob."

Jacob blinks at him. "So why are you asking me if you already know?"

"Shut up." And Sunwoo faceplants his drawing again. Jacob wants to complain about the smudging. He thinks better of it. He makes his way to the door, twisting the doorknob in his palm.

"Uh, Sunwoo, I don't know why you're here but you're making me uncomfortable and I'd rather you left, so -"

"Wait, wait," Sunwoo says, lifting his head. There's a desperation in his eyes. Jacob lets the door slam shut.

It barely echos.

It's so quiet.

"How do I know if..." Sunwoo says. He doesn't finish.

Jacob hesitates. "How do you know if...?"

"I... I've said too much already," Sunwoo says, making a show of standing up. He walks himself to the door.

"I'll see you," Sunwoo turns around, opening the door. It's raining. "Give you your next ounce half price?"

Jacob can't speak, but he nods his head. He can't refuse cheap weed.

Normally he has to suck dick for that kind of discount.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So while I was procrastinating on this, I read 5 books of writing tips and also went to London to see BTS. And I didn't smoke a single weed.


	7. 너의 장소 또는 제 장소?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad Jacob and Kevin posted their munchies haul to Twitter. It really strengthened our parasocial bond, I think.

When Kevin reaches the dorm, the door is swung open. Juyeon is in the living room, fumbling with his phone.

He types in a number. A dial tone rings out. Juyeon hangs up, huffing in annoyance.

He dials the number again.

The room is quiet. Eerily so. Nothing like what Kevin heard on the phone.

"Juy-"

Juyeon jumps, almost dropping his phone. He turns to him.

"Oh, it's you," and his face falls in relief.

"Uh, what's up?" Kevin tries.

Juyeon swallows. "Sunwoo, uh..." his eyes search around the room, flailing, "Haknyeon's in the kitchen, could you talk to him?"

Kevin's eyebrows furrow.

"I've tried to talk to him, but, uh... I think you'd be better at this than me?"

Kevin wants to press for more information. Something in Juyeon's look tells him not to.

He nods in silent assent. Turns around. Makes his way towards the kitchen.

He's not sure what he's expecting when he peaks around the door frame. It isn't the sight of Haknyeon slumped on the floor, shoulders shaking. Quiet little hiccups and chokes, reverberating against the walls.

He hasn't noticed him.

Kevin doesn't want him to notice him.

But he can't turn back.

He tip-toes towards his cupboard. Pulls out his half-finished candle and his lighter. The lighter looked more rusted than usual. He draws the flame, brings it to the wick. Inhales the smell of artificial vanilla. It didn't spark the same joy as usual, but it was something. A scent to drown out the sounds.

If Haknyeon's noticed him, he's done nothing to acknowledge it.

Kevin places the candle on the counter above Haknyeon. He gazes down at him. Kevin can't see his face, his fringe hiding any possible sliver of skin.

He looks so small.

Kevin lowers his body down and sits beside him. He slides his arm around his neck.

Haknyeon tenses under him. Tries to shift away.

Kevin holds him closer. Thumbs circles into his shoulder, a quiet hushing coming from his mouth. As if Haknyeon were a baby.

His tears start afresh.

Kevin doesn't want to cuddle, but he can't leave. So he draws him into his side. Rests his head on his shoulder. Starts rubbing his arm up and down. A jumbled pile of  _shh's_  and _it's okay's_  spilling from his mouth.

The sobbing gets louder. The light coming from the window gets dimmer. 

It was afternoon when he'd left Jacob's place.

The clouds were wispy and white then. Nothing to presage the rain.

Kevin doesn't know how long they sit there for. Nothing else in the apartment makes noise, apart from Haknyeon's occasional sob. They're drifting off into space, lost in their own worlds.

Eventually, Kevin turns to look at Haknyeon. He raises his head and looks back, eyes puffy and swollen.

Kevin's eyes well up.

He feels as lost as Haknyeon looks.

"Do you..." and Kevin chokes, "do you want some water?"

Haknyeon opens his mouth. Closes it. Nods his head.

Kevin fumbles his way to his feet, grateful for an excuse to stop looking at him. The light of the candle guides him to the fridge, night setting over the kitchen like a blanket. He pulls out 2 bottles of water. He hands one to Haknyeon, tucking the other one under his armpit. He sits back down.

Haknyeon gurgles out a _thanks_ , before he gulps down his bottle. He has it finished in 10 seconds.

"So..." Kevin says.

"So," Haknyeon says, wiping his eyes.

Kevin swallows.

At least he has the rain to fill up the awkward silence, now.

Kevin opens his own water. Sips. Twists his face at how loud he is.

"So," Kevin repeats.

"So..." and Haknyeon laughs. "I kissed Sunwoo."

"You kissed Sunwoo?" Kevin startles, "...and?"

"He smashed my favourite house plant."

Haknyeon nods towards the tiles. Kevin didn't notice it walking in; little speckles of dirt littering the floor. He twists his face, remembering he walked in barefoot.

"I cleaned up most of it," Haknyeon says, "I just need to vacuum now."

"Damn, that's harsh," Kevin says.

"Hm."

Kevin downs the rest of his water. He throws the bottle towards the trash can, aiming blindly in the darkness. It misses. Haknyeon snorts.

Kevin wonders what he should say. If he should say anything at all.

He closes his eyes.

"Y'know what the hardest part is?" Haknyeon says.

Kevin hums.

"I'm gonna have to find a new weed man."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm milking the Haknyeon and Sunwoo angst so I don't have to write the climax scene. Bully me for it in the comments below, friends.


	8. 배트똥 미친

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey does anyone else really like Lizzo?

He hasn't talked anyone for the past few days, not even his roommates. He's busy farting out essays and art pieces by the buttload. He hasn't even been checking the word count, to see if he's allowed to order pizza. That's how diligent of a student he is.

He's half-way through an analysis on Marcel Duchamp when his phone vibrates.

It's Jacob.

 

_Hey ☺️_

_Scored some cheap stuff ☺️_

_Wanna come over?_

  
They haven't talked since... that day at his diner. Kevin was coping remarkably well, thank you very much. He'd sunk himself into his work. And if he started missing Jacob at night? Well, he had sleeping pills in his bedside drawer.

He blinks at the message, then looks back at his laptop. He's pasted both of Duchamp's nudes, descending a staircase, together. He's been struggling to write about them. Historical context was easy, but this essay required him to write about feelings. Personal interpretations. He didn't have any feelings about Duchamp's nudes.

He looks at the messages again, eyes lingering over his chosen picture for Jacob. His favourite selfie that he sent him.

He remembers the first time he seen him walking away.

The first time he seen Jacob descending a staircase.

Something clicks.

30 minutes and 500 words on Duchamp later, he types out a thought-provoking reply.

 

💃💃💃

 

He turns around to Haknyeon. He's lying in his bed, fiddling on his phone.  
Sunwoo's been avoiding them for a few days, he realises.

 

_can i invite hak?_

 

His phone buzzes a second later.

 

_Sure ☺️_

_Bring your drawing stuff_

 

Kevin saves his essay and closes his laptop. He stands up, putting his socks and shoes on.

When he looks up, Haknyeon is looking back. Curious.

"Hey," Kevin says, "I'm gonna go get high with Jacob. Wanna come?"

Haknyeon beams, rolling out of bed and dumping his phone on the pillow.

Kevin stuffs spare sketchbooks and pencils in his backpack.

"Follow me."

-

"So it's, uh, called lemon candy, and it's meant to make you, like, creative and stuff..."

"Is it indica or a savtia?" Haknyeon asks.

"Both, kinda, it comes from the sour diesel strain."

Kevin has no fucking clue what they're talking about.

Jacob removes the lid from his grinder and starts rolling up. "You guys don't mind passing around, yeah?" he asks.

Kevin sits up straighter.

He'll be trading saliva particles with Jacob. Kissing him via a blunt.

"Yeah, yeah, that's cool," Kevin says, too eager. He doesn't mention that he's never smoked a cigarette, nonetheless a blunt.

Haknyeon conquers a lighter out of thin air.

Jacob takes it with a ‘thanks’, and lights the joint. When it catches the flame, Kevin feels the heat radiating against his face. He watches Jacob draw it to his lips and close his eyes. He inhales it with the demeanour of a seasoned smoker.

Kevin tries to convince himself his butterflies are just his apprehension about his own turn. He's not thinking about what it'd be like to kiss him. No way.

Jacob’s eyes flutter open, flickering between both of them.

“S’good… who’s next?”

There's a fresh drawl to his voice. Kevin twitches. He lets Haknyeon volunteer.

Haknyeon takes it and puffs, sighing in contentment.

He hands it to Kevin.

Kevin holds it between his fingers, the heat coursing through his limbs. He raises it, tentative, to his lips.

He wedges it in his mouth and sucks.

It's searing through his lungs, burning it's way down. Jacob yanks it off him as he coughs.

"Is this your first time smoking?" Jacob asks.

Kevin splutters and choke around his words. "Nope. Smoke, ugh, all the time."

Haknyeon throws a water bottle at his head.

Kevin catches it, earning a woop from both of them.

"Down it, fresher," Haknyeon shouts.

He downs it.

They smoke the rest of it together, Kevin making sure to take smaller puffs. Jacob and Haknyeon don't point out his occasional coughs. Kevin's ego can't thank them enough.

"Kevin? I wanted to show you something," Jacob says when the blunt is stubbed out, slapping a piece of paper down in front of him.

He recognises it immediately. It's Time Transfixed, rendered in stubby HB pencil. It's not bad at all.

"It's terrible, isn't it?" Jacob says.

"No, it's..." he takes it from Jacob's grasp on the table, and holds it to the diner's light, "it's good, Jacob. Seriously."

Kevin puts the drawing back down on the table. He can feel Jacob's eyes on him, but he can't take his eyes from the train. "You're not just saying that?"

"No, it's," he looks at Jacob, "it's pretty damn good, pardon my French."

A swell of pride blooms in Jacob's eyes.

"I drew it when you left the diner..."

Jacob makes an odd _heh_ noise, and looks away.

"...oh," Kevin supplies, helpfully.

Haknyeon coughs. "Hey, didn't you bring paper with you? I want to see how creative I get when this kicks in."

Kevin rummages around in his rucksack and dumps all his equipment.

They all take bits of paper, Jacob breaks into the pencils.

No-one asks him for instruction, but he gives them anyway. It's kicking in, he can tell by the way he's boring them with fun facts about the abstract movement. Jacob laughs and humours him. Haknyeon replies with nonsense.

Kevin can't feel his feet/

It's good stuff.

"Hey, Kevin?" Haknyeon asks.

"Yeah?" Kevin looks up from his drawing.

"I figured out what I'm gonna do with my life."

Kevin's ears twitch, ready to take notes.

"What are you gonna do?"

"I'm gonna drop out," Haknyeon says, a Cheshire cat grin fixed to his face.  
Kevin blinks.

"Haknyeon," Jacob asks, "have I ever told you you're a genius?"

"All the time."

They all go back to scribbling. Kevin hasn't been drawing anything, just random squiggles.

He wonders if he could submit it and get extra credit. Pretend it's an abstract meditation on pining, weed and the smell of pepperoni grease.

"M'hungry, someone order pizza," Haknyeon says. Sometimes, he thinks he can read his mind.

Kevin doesn't lift his head, but he can hear the smug grin in Jacob's voice. "Good job I work at a pizzeria."

Jacob slinks away to the back-room, before Kevin gets to fake laugh at his joke.

Him and Haknyeon start drawing again in comfortable silence. The sound of an oil fryer sparks behind them.

Kevin's getting bored.

Where's Jacob? He wants to talk to Jacob. He looks up.

Oh my God, it's Haknyeon.

He can talk to Haknyeon.

"It's good stuff," Kevin says, indicating to the ashtray on the table, "where'd he get it?"

Haknyeon shrugs. "Sunwoo."

"Oh. He told me he got it for cheap," Haknyeon's eyebrows reach past his fringe, "I thought he grew it himself... I guess not."

"Oh? Sunwoo? I hope it's just mate rates," Haknyeon says, resting his arms behind his head.

Mate rates? He's about to ask, when it clicks.

His stomach sinks to the bottom of the diner floor.

Haknyeon looks concerned.

He looks like he's about to say something.

Kevin doesn't want to hear it. He can't handle kindness. He'll cry if Haknyeon is kind to him.

He slides out of his seat.

"Hey, Hak? If Jacob asks where I am... tell him... my dog died."

"You don't have a dog," Haknyeon calls after him.

Kevin can't hear him. He's running outside, being soaked in the summer sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like Lizzo.


	9. 이유 제 문두들김에

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, yeah, we're getting there.

It's June. Saturday night. Kevin knows what day it is, if the rainbow emblems on the uni homepage are any indication. He grunts, closing the homepage and opening Word.

Rain batters itself against the walls. Kevin can feel the impending warmth from the rest of the day on his arms, through the window.

He takes mindless notes on Dadaist painters, his prose about as coherent as the works themselves.

The rest of them are bustling around him. Not the usual bustle, not one that heralded a smoke session. It was something else. They were wearing something other than sweatpants, for once. Someone, somewhere, sprays a cologne. The stink of cheap sandalwood invades Kevin's nose seconds later.

Kevin tries to ignore them, blot them from the corners of his eyes. Puts his earphones in. Opens Apple Music. Hovers over one of his self-made playlists, scanning the titles.

God, why did every song remind him of -

"Hey, Kevin?" someone says, tapping his shoulder.

He yanks his earphones out, turning around in his desk chair.

It's Sunwoo.

He tries not to sound as snappy as he feels. "What?"

He must sound snappy, anyway. Sunwoo recoils.

"Uh... we're going to the," Sunwoo looks at the floor, embarrassed, "the, pride thing on campus tonight... are you coming?"

Kevin raises his eyebrows. He turns his face to see Haknyeon in the background, wearing his best leather jacket. Haknyeon feels his gaze, giving Kevin a thumbs up.

Oh.

Kevin turns back to Sunwoo, a small smile grazing his lips.

"No, no I'm not. Have fun though."

"Cool, but," Sunwoo starts swaying from foot to foot, "Jacob's gonna be there..."

Kevin scowls at the name.

"No, I'm not coming."

Juyeon slides into the room, just in time to share an awkward look with everyone else.

"Did something happen?" Juyeon asks.

"Yeah, Kevin and Jacob are having a lover's tiff," Haknyeon offers.

"Cool," Juyeon says, "are we ready to go?"

Haknyeon is already halfway out the dorm.

Juyeon follows him, the door slamming shut.

Kevin looks at Sunwoo.

Sunwoo grins.

"Well, I'll be off," Sunwoo says, feet turning towards the door, "oh, by the way?"

Kevin hmmm's, not bothering to keep the disdain out his voice.

"I gave him that discount because he helped me out with Haknyeon. He didn't suck my dick, Kevin."

Kevin's mouth drops.

He stops his blobfish impression once Sunwoo leaves, his bitter laughter still echoing in the empty dorm.

-

The sweet sounds of Carly Rae Jepsen's Dedication cover up the fireworks outside.

The light of the laptop illuminates him. He's given up writing about Duchamp. He's typing out the lyrics instead, hammering his keyboard with fury.

He needs me he needs me he needs me he needs me he needs me he needs me he needs me he needs me he needs...

He chances a look at the word count.

1,010.

His nostrils flare.

He opens Safari. Types in a URL that he knows by heart. Just one last time, for old time's sake.

He clacks his tongue, waiting for it to load. Drums his fingers on his desk.

It loads.

The website is pristine white.

Not greyed out.

It's online.

They're accepting orders.

Kevin's heart skips in his chest, before he reigns it back in.

He won't let himself get carried away.

Not this time.

It's online. That means Jacob's still home, or he's out and forgot to set the site to offline.

Interesting prospects.

Prospects that have nothing to do with him, of course.

Kevin doesn't care at all about what Jacob might or might not be doing.

He's not bothered at all.

Now all he has to do is close the tab.

Just hover the mouse over the red X button, and get back to writing.

His hand won't co-operate with him.

He moves it to the mouse.

It stays stuck there.

He asks Carly what she'd do in this situation.

Carly tells him, with gravitas and solemnity, that he wants him on the bed, on the floor. And that she doesn't care anymore.

Kevin thinks he gets it.

He doesn't close the tab. He orders a single pepperoni. He uses Juyeon's card details, because fuck him, he can pay for the pizza for once.

At the 'Any special requests?' section, he tells him to stream Dedication.

_Order sent!_

He takes his earphones out and slams his laptop shut, the sound hurting his ears more than the fireworks booming outside.

He gazes out the window. It's a red and yellow aurora borealis, transported straight to Vancouver Island.

He wonders if Jacob is watching the same fireworks. If he's underneath them, or if he's watching from a window.

Or if he's not watching at all. If he's making pizza.

He walks to the kitchen. Walks back. Walks into the kitchen again. Takes a detour to the bathroom. Has a nervous piss. Spends 10 minutes meticulously washing his hands. Walks back to the kitchen.

Pours himself a glass of water, just for something to do. Sips it.

Water trickles down his throat. He gazes out the kitchen window. The loud noises don't bother him anymore. What's bothering him is the colours.

Red and yellow.

Could the uni's budget only accommodate 2 colours? What a joke. He's paying _how much_ to study colour theory here, and they couldn't afford blue fireworks? Hell, he'd take green at this point.

Something knocks on the hallway door.

The glass of water slides out of his hand, smashing over the counter.

Kevin looks at the shards with a newfound nonchalance.

He can clean it up later. He'll just tell them to keep their shoes on when they come back.

He goes back to the living room. Opens the door on autopilot. His head feels vacuous. The nerves and nausea are gone, replaced with a sinking feeling of nothingness.

He closes the door behind him. Stands in the doorway.

Something hammers on his door. Again.

He twists it open.

It's Jacob, in his delivery boy uniform. Same dumb red cap, same stupid nametag.

"Hey, a single pepper-"

Kevin knocks the pizza out his hands.

Grabs him by the shoulders.

Closes his eyes. Lunges.

Plants a fat, wet kiss on his lips.

The body underneath him freezes. Kevin thinks, for a second, he might run off.

He doesn't.

Jacob's shoulders sag underneath him. A warm pair of hands snake themselves around his hips.

Jacob kisses back. With tongue. Kevin's at half-mast already.

Someone in the hallway jeers. Kevin kisses harder, knocking Jacob's ugly hat off his head. Grabs a fistful of his hair for leverage.

Jacob moans at that.

He's going to fully pitch a tent if it keeps going like this.

He manages to pull himself away, somehow.

Jacob's all mussed up blonde now, dazed and kiss swollen. They catch their breath to the soundtrack of bursting firecrackers.

"You," Jacob says, still breathless, and Kevin congratulates himself on not kissing him again, "you threw my pizza away. I baked it with love."

"Sorry," Kevin says, sheepish, "this seemed cooler in my imagination."

Jacob looks sly. "You've imagined us kissing?"

"Shut up. Wanna come in?"

Jacob smiles, then frowns. "I would, but, I haven't went offline."

Kevin sighs, combing through his hair. "Couldn't you do it on your phone? Or use my computer? I have a laptop."

"Sure," Jacob says, bending over to pick up the busted pizza box.

They dump the unopened pizza on Kevin's laptop. Jacob doesn't go offline.

They suck each other's dicks instead.

As the last firework sounds, Jacob busts in his mouth.

It's great.

(It's not.)

(He swallows anyway.)

-

Kevin wakes up, bleary eyed, to Sunwoo shouting 'happy pride!' at him.

Juyeon mumbles a 'happy pride' through a slice of pizza, giving a thumbs up from his bunk bed. Jacob is pressed to his side, a sticky dead weight.

Kevin remembers, all too late, that they fell asleep naked.

They have blankets over them, at least.

"Happy pride," Kevin says, rubbing his eyes and reaching for his glasses.

Someone screams from the kitchen. Haknyeon.

He jolts upright, waking Jacob.

Oh no.

He forgot to tell them about the glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Psyche lmfao you thought I was gonna write a sex scene.


	10. 밤, 현장, 읍

It was the start of July. It was a pleasant heat, not the stifling warmth of June. Kevin just got his results back. He failed.

Jacob had reassured him with a brownie and his own abmysmal results. They were having one of their regular campus strolls, the buzz of the brownie starting to kick in.

It was golden over the horizon. He wonders, briefly, if the grass is ever greener on the other side.

It's hot here. It's raining in South Korea.

If he listens close enough, he swears he can hear the Seoul downpour.

Their hands brush. Jacob giggles, drawing Kevin out of his thoughts.

"I was thinking..." Kevin says.

Jacob doesn't reply. He doesn't need to. The rhythm of their steps fill up the silence just fine.

"Sunwoo, Juyeon and Hak are all Korean, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"We're Korean too."

"Yeah."

"I can sing, Sunwoo's a good rapper, Haknyeon can dance. Juyeon is...," he pauses, "well, Juyeon's handsome."

"I can play guitar," Jacob quips.

"Yeah, you can. What if..."

Kevin chances a look at their feet. They're walking in perfect sync.

"...what if," Kevin continues, "what if we dropped out, got dual citizenship, and debuted as kpop idols?"

Jacob stops walking. Turns to him.

"Kevin, you're a genius."

"I am."

Jacob takes his hands in his, looks him in his eyes.

Sincerely.

Kevin's heart does a triple somersault.

"Let's do it," Jacob squeezes harder, "I mean it."

Kevin nods.

"Yeah, let's do it."


	11. 여보세요? 여보세요?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm retiring from the fanfic game.
> 
> Considering the amount of weed scandals happening right now, I don't want to jinx anyone. I'm convinced Kevin blazes up (because who would draw that shit sober?), but I don't want him to get #cancelled for it. Same with Johnny from NCT. Love that guy.
> 
> Sometimes the pen is mightier than the sword. Younghoon bukkake fic next week.
> 
> Quick edit. So I just found out Kevin hotboxed a car predebut? I wrote all of that shit and I only just found this out? Holy FUCK.


End file.
